


Pride

by writing_addiction



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aro Yuri is the Way and the Truth, Aromantic Characters, Coming Out, Growing Up, LGBTQ Characters, M/M, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 09:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10694496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_addiction/pseuds/writing_addiction
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky had never really thought about the concept of attraction before.  That is, until Yuuri Katsuki came along and gave him a reason to.  Who the fuck even cared about labels and flags and shit anyway?  But he figured learning new stuff was never a bad idea, though...





	Pride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Illustrativewall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illustrativewall/gifts).



> EDIT: Some people were saying that the images weren't displaying correctly. I tried multiple times to fix it, and nothing seems to be working for everyone. I've reverted back to full text, so at least people can enjoy the rest of the story without missing the text conversations. Sorry about all the nonsense.
> 
> Also, I try really hard to keep all my YOI fics in Kubo-sensei's homophobia-free world, and I think I succeeded here for the most part. My headcanons about Yurio's relationship with his parents are long and complicated and involve lots of other info besides what detail we get here, but I ended up cutting most of their appearances out because I wanted to focus on other things. -shrug-

The first time Yuri saw the pin on Japanese-Yuuri’s backpack, he didn't pay much attention to it.  Yuuri was always collecting pins and patches and all kinds of other shit and sticking them on his stuff, so seeing another added to the collection wasn't really that odd.  It stayed there for months with no comment from anyone else, so Yuri decided not to rock the boat.  

He couldn't help being curious, though.  Most of Yuuri’s pins were either about anime shit or were in English, and it was Yuri’s general policy to ignore them.  The English ones were from his time in America, old and worn and barely readable, but he stupidly refused to get rid of them.  This new one, though, was just stripes.  Black, gray, white, and purple.  No words, just color blocks.  Fucking weird.

He wasn't going to ask.  It probably wasn't worth the effort.

He'd almost forgotten about it entirely when Yuuri’s new free skate costume came in.  He was having dinner at Viktor and Yuuri’s place when it arrived in the mail, and of course Viktor, being the extra bastard that he was, demanded his fiancé try it on immediately.  To his credit, Yuuri responded with, “Viktor, I'm not done washing the dishes yet.  It can wait five minutes.”

“But Yuuri!” Viktor exclaimed, throwing one arm around his shoulder and clutching his chest with the other hand.  “You wound me!  I just want to see how beautiful you look in it.  How can you deny me the chance to fawn over you?”

Yuuri gave him a peck on the cheek and inclined his head toward the sink.  “So if I go try it on, does that mean you'll finish up here?”

Viktor's face fell.  “I suppose it can wait five minutes.”

Yuri rolled his eyes.  Why did they have to be so gross?

After considerably longer than five minutes, Yuuri reemerged from the kitchen and picked up his package.  Viktor tried to follow him into the bedroom but Yuri leaned over the side of the couch and grabbed him by the back of his shirt.  “No, you are staying here.  If you go in there while Katsudon is changing, then you'll get sidetracked being all lovey-dovey and probably end up fucking.  I seriously don't need to hear that shit.”

Yuri expected pouting, for Viktor to make excuses as to why he needed to be in the room, but all he got instead was a quizzical tilt to Viktor’s eyebrows and a small downward slant at the corners of his mouth.  He glanced over at Japanese-Yuuri too, only to find a similar expression on his face.  He was blushing, but that wasn't exactly out of the ordinary.  Yuuri got embarrassed over every little fucking thing.

Instead of wondering what he'd done wrong, Yuri went back to slouching against the couch and playing on his phone.  “Hurry up, Katsudon!” he called.  “You promised me we would finish up that robot show tonight.”

Yuuri returned a few minutes later, and he honestly did look very striking.  He didn't even have any make-up on, but Yuri could already tell that whatever he chose to do with this outfit on, it's going to be vastly different than anything he'd done in the past.

“I thought blues were your thing?” Yuri comments.

After an initial bout of fawning and gross affection, Viktor busied himself by making minuscule adjustments to the outfit and muttering to himself about a few slight alterations they'd have to make to the fit.  He  wasn't hearing a word anyone else said.

“Yeah, I've always been partial to blue,” Yuuri answered.  “But I wanted to do something specific with my free skate this season, and there's no room for blue now.”

“It's weird seeing you in purple.”

Yuuri let out a quiet, self-conscious chuckle.  “I know.  Do you like it, though, Yurio?”

He paused before replying you take in the whole outfit.  It was basically a gradient, starting white at the shoulders and progressing through shades of purple and gray to end in a dark black at the hips. The most interesting part was the rhinestones glittering around his chest and abdomen.  The whole thing seemed so light and airy, as if it might unravel if he started moving.  Yuri wondered what “specific thing” he was trying to do if it involved picking a costume like this.

“It's not the worst I've ever seen,” he said, waving a hand vaguely in the air.  “Georgi has worn way uglier stuff than that.”

To his surprise, Viktor didn't want Yuuri to spend the rest of the evening in his new clothes, and with a minimal amount of their  gross good-night rituals, Yuuri eventually sent his fiancé to bed and popped in the DVD.  They only had the final 3 episodes left to watch, and Yuri for one wanted to get this the fuck over with.  Not that he wasn't enjoying himself--just the opposite.  He needed to know what happened next.

Halfway through the last episode’s intro music (which was catchy as fuck even though it had no right to be so good), he caught a glimpse of Yuuri’s backpack as he refilled his drink.  His eye was immediately drawn to the newest pin, and he realized belatedly that it matched the colors of Yuuri’s outfit for the upcoming competitive season.  

Was that a coincidence?  It couldn't be.  Yuuri always wore blue.  Well, except for his Eros routine, but that was Viktor’s fault.  He'd never seen Yuuri compete in something that didn't involve the color blue somehow, and yet this year, he was abandoning it altogether.  For _purple_?  

What the fuck.  Was this the influence of Viktor “Surprise The Audience At All Costs” Nikiforov?  (If he cut his hair in a fit of “creative passion” the night before the GPF, there would be no doubt.)

Sitting down again, Yuri asked, “Katsudon, what's that pin on your bag mean?”

“Which one?”

“The purple one.”

“The _Hamilton_ one?  It's just a quote from one of the songs.”

“No, the stripey one.  It's the same color scheme as your new costume.”

“Oh.”  That tiny, worried frown came back to Yuuri’s face.  “It’s...a pride flag.”

“I thought that was the rainbow colors.”

Yuuri shrugged.  “You're not wrong, but that's just one of them.  There are lots of different pride flags.”

“Oh.”  Yuri almost let it go, but his curiosity got the better of him.  If Katsudon evaded again this time, he wouldn't press any further.  “So what's it mean then?”

Biting his lip, the older man replied, “It's the asexual flag.”

Yuri frowned.  “The what?”

“Asexual,” Yuuri repeated.  “It means people who don't experience sexual attraction.”

Yuri’s nose scrunched up.  “Huh?”

“Some people aren't attracted to others in that way.”

“There are people out there who _don't wanna have sex_?  That's crazy.”

Yuuri turned to face him more, frown exaggerated now in real displeasure.  “Yes, and _I'm_ one of them _,_ Yurio.”

This was getting annoying.  “But you're totally gross and head over heels for Viktor!  Are you telling me you guys have lived together all this time and you don't do it?  He’s always all over you!”

“Yurio--” he started, but he stopped himself.  Yuuri put his hands over his face for a moment and inhaled deeply.  When he had calmed down a little, he said, “Sex and romance aren't the same thing.  They're different types of attraction.  You can have one without the other.  So yes, I love Viktor, but I've never had sexual feelings about him or anyone else.  Ever.”

Yuri didn't respond right away.  He'd obviously hurt Yuuri’s feelings.  Which, yeah, he was kind of being a dick about it, wasn't he?  The more he thought about it, the more sense it made, though.  Katsudon had been super uncomfortable at first about the idea of skating Eros the year before, and if he'd never felt below-the-belt stuff about anyone, then it was no wonder.  It wasn't until the second half of the season that he'd began to really get into his performances, and Yuri had chalked it up to him finally banging his coach.

Taking his contemplative silence for confusion, Yuuri added, “I can show you some websites that explain it better, if you want.”

Learning new shit was never a bad thing.  Especially if it helped you understand the people in your life better.  So Yuri sat and listened and read the articles and asked dozens of questions, and Katsudon was chill enough not to look annoyed at him.  He learned about asexuality, and eventually the conversation turned to the other side of the coin.  Aromanticism.  “One without the other,” Katsudon had said, and it piqued Yuri’s interest slightly.

The robot anime show long forgotten, Yuri went to bed that night musing on the mass of new information he'd learned.  It was interesting, to say the least.

Kind of weird, but still.  

***

Weeks went by, and Yuri still thought about that conversation.  He couldn't place why it stuck with him, but it felt...important somehow.  Maybe it was just a residual feeling from Japanese-Yuuri?  He's been very serious about the entire thing, and it wasn't hard to see that the subject matter was close to his heart.

Yeah, that was probably it.  No big deal.

***

Because of a metric ton of bullshit and douchebaggery of the highest order, Otabek wasn't skating in the Grand Prix Final that winter.  Oh, he should have been, but some drunk sore loser thought it would be fun to pick a fight with him after the Rostelecom Cup, and in defending himself, he handed the guy his own ass on a silver platter.  (It was the most badass thing Yuri had ever fucking seen.)   Some asshole reported him, though, and he was barred from competing in the GPF due to his “unsportsman-like behavior.”

Still though, he was in the audience, watching and cheering as Yuri skated.  He appreciated it, because if not for Otabek, he would have been stuck hanging around all the gross couples he knew: Viktor and Yuuri, Mila and Sara, and Georgi and whatever chick he was dating this week.   _Ugh, no thanks_ , he thought.  Yuri had offered to go in for half of Otabek’s plane ticket, since he technically didn't have to be here right now, but his offer had been politely declined.  Something about frequent flier miles and “wouldn't miss it for the world.”  Whatever.  As long as he was here, that was really all Yuri cared about.

Beka was a great guy.

At dinner afterwards, Viktor insisted on taking everybody out and treating them to dinner.  He'd also insisted that everyone with a medal had to wear it and be proud of their accomplishments.  Yuri rolled his eyes.  He was still really fucking salty that Chulanont had barely squeaked in a higher score than him--less than a quarter of a point!--and beat him to the bronze.  Viktor had placed second, and, to absolutely no one's surprise, Yuuri snagged first.  

Yuri was beginning to wonder, as Viktor loudly and obnoxiously instigated a conversation about the ideas he had for his and Katsudon’s wedding, if he'd downgraded some of his jumps on purpose.

As they all walked to the restaurant, Yuri and Otabek fell to the back of the group.  Neither of them were particularly invested in planning a wedding, so they walked beside each other and enjoyed a comfortable silence.  It was only when he looked up to ask Otabek a question that he noticed the pin on his friend's jacket.

“Katsudon got to you too, huh?”

Otabek glanced down at his chest, a smile tinging the corner of his mouth.  “Yeah.  I'm surprised you don't have one.”

Yuri snorted derisively.  “I told him I thought it was stupid.  Who the fuck cares about labels and shit?”

Otabek hummed under his breath.  “Still,” he said after a pause, “it can be nice to have a word to describe yourself.”

“What does it matter?” Yuri growled.  “If you wanna bang somebody, then you wanna bang them.  And if you don't, you don't.  I don't see why ‘having a word for it’ is such a big deal.”

His friend didn't reply, just nodded and kept walking.  Yuri glanced at that stupid pin again.  It was green, yellow, and gray, similar in structure to Japanese-Yuuri’s, but it had a black triangle on the left side.  What did that one stand for?  

As the whole group crammed around the table, Yuri noticed they all had pins.  Katsudon was wearing his purple one, now attached to the ribbon of his gold medal, and had added another one as well, purple, white, and green.  Viktor’s was bright pink, yellow, and blue.  Beside him, Christophe was wearing the regular rainbow one, and Chulanont’s was obscured for a moment as he hugged Yuuri.  When he sat back and took out his phone for a selfie, Yuri saw his pin, white flanked by a pale pink and baby blue on top and bottom.

Mila was wearing blue, purple, and pink.  Sara, another rainbow.  One table over, he spotted Emil and Mickey sporting rainbows, and even Isabella and stupid fucking _JJ_ had one, the word “ally” written in black script on a white background.  (And to make it even worse, theirs were shaped like a fucking maple leaf.  Bastards.)  Yuri glanced around, seeing a few other skaters he didn't really know who'd also ended up at this restaurant, and every single one of them was wearing a fucking pin.  He’d noticed pins on other competitors from afar at the event venue, not really able to make out what was on them, but he hadn't really put two and two together until now.

Yuri was the only one who wasn't wearing one.

How fucking long had Katsudon been at this shit?  How the fuck did he even _know_ all these people?  Why the fuck had no one told him this was gonna happen?  

He sunk down further in his chair, arms crossed, face set in a scowl, and tried not to feel like a huge fucking prick.

Later, as they walked back to their hotel, he cornered Yuuri  “So.”

“Yes?”

“The pins.”

Katsudon stayed quiet.

“I didn't know it was gonna be like...a big deal or whatever.”  It was as close to an apology as he was getting.

Yuuri understood.  “It's alright, Yurio.  There were lots of people who turned me down.  I didn't wanna pressure anyone.”  With a soft chuckle, he scratched the side of his neck.  “To be honest, I didn't expect it to get like this.  I only asked a few people originally.   Just Viktor, Chris, and Phichit.  But then the word spread about what I was doing, and it kind of blew up from there.”

A long silence passed between them.  Yuri broke it reluctantly.  “What was the point of it?”

Katsudon didn't answer right away.  Usually he would have been annoyed, but not tonight.  Not after he realized how far up his own ass his head had been.  He had probably really hurt Yuuri’s feelings.  The least he could do was try to understand why this thing was so important to him.

When it was all said and done, Yuri understood.  Katsudon talked about visibility and education, about openness and acceptance, about being proud of who you were, about being comfortable in your own skin.  He got really passionate about it all, and it wasn't until he paused to look something up on his phone that Yuri noticed the other conversations behind them had faded away.  He kept talking as they boarded the elevator, as they walked down the hall, and as Viktor unlocked the door to their room.  He sat on the edge of the bed and kept talking, kept looking up pictures for Yuri to see, articles and wikis and blog posts for him to read.  

By the time he stopped talking, his voice was scratchy from overuse, and Yuri finally understood.  He felt like a _major_ asshole.  Not only because he hadn't participated in a gesture of solidarity between basically the entire skating community, but also because Yuuri had been pouring his heart and soul into this project for more than _six months_ .  Every single pin was _handmade_.  

And Yuri had just blown it off.  

He was a fucking idiot.

Katsudon offered to walk with him to his room down the hall.  Yuri paused at the door, keycard hovering above the lock, and said, “You can make me one too, if you still wanna.”

He smiled.  It took over his whole face.  “Sure!”

Yuri had wondered if it was even possible to feel more shitty than he already did, but apparently, it was.  Yuuri asked him which flag he wanted, and he couldn't respond.  He just.  Fucking shrugged.  Like a fucking moron.  Katsudon sensed his discomfort and was quick to reassure him that they could talk about it later.  He was thankful, but he wasn't sure he would have an answer whenever “later” happened.

This was gonna be a pain in the ass, wasn't it?

***

“Later” ended up being after the Worlds and via texting.  Yuri had been reading up on a lot of different stuff since the Grand Prix Final, and even though there were terms he was beginning to feel connected to, he was still scared that he was wrong somehow, that he was stealing an identity he didn't truly own.  After a week of internal conflict, he decided he might as well ask an actual, bona fide queer person.

[Text: to Katsudon]  _ quick question  
_ [Text: to Katsudon]  _ wtf even is attraction anyway?? _

After the longest three minutes of his life, Yuuri responded.

[Text: from Katsudon]  __ having difficulties?  
[Text: to Katsudon]   
[Text: to Katsudon]  __ but yeah  
[Text: to Katsudon]  __ you said sex and love were separate right  
[Text: from Katsudon]  __ for some people, yes  
[Text: to Katsudon]  __ and a romantic is the one where you don't do lovey dovey shit right  
[Text: to Katsudon]  __ aromantic* fucking phone  
[Text: from Katsudon]  __ aro people don't experience romantic attraction  
[Text: from Katsudon] _ but they might still be affectionate with a partner or take part in gestures or customs that are usually romantically-coded for other reasons.    
_ [Text: from Katsudon]  __ Or not.  Depends on the person.

Why the fuck was this so complicated?

[Text: to Katsudon]  _ Didn't understand a single fkn word of that. _

There was another long pause in between messages, and Yuri was almost getting worried that his friend had finally given up on him.  Probably would have served him right.  But just as he was typing out an apology, Yuuri sent him a link.

[Text: from Katsudon]  __ still at practice, but I dug this up for you.    
[Text: from Katsudon]  __ just remember that attraction can be FLUID and that switching labels is okay!  If you think something feels good right now, that's fine  Use it.  If you find another word later on that feels better, that's fine too!  Use it!  
[Text: from Katsudon]  __ nobody will judge you for learning and understanding more about yourself as you get older.  You're 17, you don't have to have everything figured out perfectly right off the bat.  

He'd…never thought about it that way before.  But Katsudon was right.  There was no rush.  He was just being impatient.  He opened the link Yuuri had sent him, which was to a really cool, really informative video, before he texted back.

[Text: to Katsudon]  __ thanks  
[Text: to Katsudon]  _ pick me up after practice.  I'm gonna stay over tonight.  
_ [Text: to Katsudon]  __ and I think I know what I want on my pin

The reply came more than an hour later.

[Text: from Katsudon]  _ sorry sorry sorry!  We stayed longer than we thought, but we're on our way now. _

***

The first thing Yuuri did when they got back to his and Viktor’s apartment was break out his pin-making machine.  He laid out his supplies and handed Yuri a manila folder.  “Which one did you decide on?”

Yuri thumbed through the sheets of print-outs until he came across the flag he saw online.  “Here.  This one.”

Katsudon smiled.  “Okay!  It'll take me a minute to make it, though.  Why don't you and Viktor figure out what to do about dinner while I work?”

***

He immediately put on the pin when Yuuri handed it to him.  He immediately took a selfie.  He immediately sent it to Beka.

[Text: to Badass☠]  _ finally got a pin _

It was late, and he fully expected Otabek not to answer.  Not too long after, though, his phone buzzed against his thigh.

[Text: from Badass]   
[Text: to Badass] __wtf dude it's 3am for you go tf to sleep  
[Text: from Badass] __  
[Text: to Badass] __fuck you that's MY line.  
[Text: to Badass] __for real bro go to bed  
[Text: from Badass] __will do.

Yuri couldn't help but smile.  What a fucking dork.

(Yuri briefly considered posting the photo to Instagram, but decided not to.  It wasn’t anybody else’s business just yet.)

***

Near the end of the summer, he tried to get up the courage to talk to his parents about it.

His stupid ass chickened out, though.

Fuck.

***

When his parents missed the Grand Prix Final that year, he's angry but only as a matter of course.  It wasn't like they'd ever supported him before; he was an idiot to think they would just up and start now.

Then they started making excuses as to why they wouldn't be able to come with him to the Russian Nationals.  He offered to pay for all their expenses, which he wouldn't feasibly be able to do, but he knew the money was a pretext anyway.  

They turned him down.  

“We'll watch it on the computer, Yurotchka,” they told him.  “We'll still get to see you skate.”

(He beat Viktor’s old, sorry ass like a motherfucking drum, and when he returned home, his parents smiled and hugged him and asked how much money he won for getting first place.  

He texted Katsudon the next day to ask how much they would charge him for rent if he crammed all his shit into their spare bedroom.

Fuck his parents.)

***

Otabek came to visit him for his birthday and ended up staying for basically a whole month.  It made sense, really: Yuri’s birthday was only two weeks before the Worlds, so there was no point in Beka flying to Russia for a few days, then back to Almaty, and then right back to Europe again for the Worlds a few days later.  

Or at least, that was what they told his coach.  And it was mostly true.  It would save money to do it this way, as Beka would be taking only 3 flights instead of 4, and Yakov had agreed to take over his training temporarily while he was in Saint Petersburg.  (Maybe “agreed” was a strong word.  Yakov screamed at Yuri when he brought up the subject, but he hadn't technically said no, which was as close to a yes as Yakov ever got.)

Yuuri and Viktor offered to let him stay with them, which he was kind of hoping Beka would do, but realistically, their place was just too small to accommodate four people comfortably.  Several of their rink mates offered up second bedrooms or couches, but Otabek turned them all down.  

And it was a shame, too, because all the money he was spending on a hotel room for three weeks was basically going to waste.  Every night, he came over to Viktor and Yuuri’s apartment and stayed way too late.  He only really went to his hotel to crash for a few hours until it was time to get up for practice.

One night, while Viktor was walking Makkachin and Japanese-Yuuri was folding laundry,Yuri asked Otabek where his pin was.

“Hmm?”

“You know.  The one Katsudon made.”  

“It's at home.”

“Oh.”  Yuri tried his best not to come across as disappointed as he felt, but Otabek would still know.  He always knew.

“Where's yours?”

He felt his cheeks get warm.  “In my room.  My parents came to--”  He faltered for a moment.  They'd showed up to ask him for money, and they'd made a god awful scene when he refused.  “--visit me at the rink the other day, so I had to hide it.”

Otabek nodded without responding.  He knew enough about Yuri’s parents to understand the gist of things without needing details.  

“I was thinking,” Yuri continued, “that we could take a pic together sometime.  But it's no big deal.”

Otabek nodded again.  “We should, yeah.  Aro-spectrum people have to stick together.”

A few beats of silence passed between them.  Feeling a surge of bravery, Yuri said, “Maybe Katsudon would make you another one.”

In the end, they decided to take a selfie regardless.  They posed together, sitting on the couch and making weird faces at the camera.  Yuri posted the pic to Instagram with the caption: _tfw ur bestie from_ visits you in .

***

“You should just move to Russia,” Yuri says.

Otabek reaches behind him for his suitcase.   “Yeah.”

“We could get a place together.”

“Yeah.”

Yuri reaches out to adjust his silver medal, which stupid Viktor had insisted he wear all the way to Kazakhstan.  It's gotten twisted up somehow.  “ _I_ would move, but Viktor’s already promised to coach me next season.”

“He's retiring then?”

Whoops.  “It's not official yet or anything,” he clarifies, “but he's getting too old to keep up.  The only reason he competed this season is because Katsudon wouldn't let him be a house-husband.”

Beka smiled and let out a soft breath of laughter.  “Is it bad I can basically hear how that conversation went down?”

“It was _super_ gross,” Yuri confirmed.   With a sigh, he added, “I guess you should be getting to the airport, huh?”

Beka glanced at his phone.  “Yeah, it's about that time.”

Yuri didn't want to say goodbye.  He didn't want Otabek to leave.  Having Otabek here with him was great, and he selfishly didn't want to give that up.  But he knew that Otabek’s family depended on him, that he'd already been away from them for too long.  

Still.

Yuri really wanted a hug, but he'll be damned if he let it show.  Beka knew, though.  Beka always knew.  He opened his arms without coming forward, silently asking, and Yuri leaned in.  Buried his face in Otabek’s shoulder.  Maybe asking him to stay for this long had been a bad idea.  He had been used to Skyping and texting and the occasional phone call in between seeing him occasionally at competitions.  It had been enough.  

But now?  Now he felt like he wouldn't be able to function if Beka wasn't around.  Knowing they couldn't hang out whenever they wanted was going to kill him.  He loved talking to Beka; he loved doing fun shit with Beka; he loved just chilling out and watching TV with Beka.  He loved everything about his friendship with Beka.  Now that he'd gotten a taste of what it was like to have him nearby, how was he supposed to be satisfied with this long-distance bullshit?

Yuri adjusted his head and sat his chin on top of Otabek’s shoulder.  It was probably getting to be an awkwardly long hug, but he couldn't care less.  Until he spotted Viktor staring at them with that smug, heart-shaped smile on his face and one hand pressed to his cheek.  

He was obviously getting the wrong idea.  Yuri frowned and flipped him off.

Otabek pulled away first, but he wasn't exactly in a rush to get out the door.  “I'll text you when my plane lands.”

“Okay.”

“And when I get home.”

“Sure.”

Otabek nodded.  Looked at the door.  Sighed.

“You should go,” Yuri said.

“Yeah,” he replied, still not moving.

Yuri pushed him toward the door.  If Beka didn't leave right now, he might do something impulsive like pack a bag and move to Almaty.  “Leave already, you stupid ass.  Don't take the chance of missing your flight.”

Finally, Otabek reached for the doorknob.  He took one step into the hall and turned back around, and Yuri was honestly about to get on his phone and cancel his flight to Saint Petersburg so he could stow away in Beka’s carry-on.  He was right on the edge of making the worst, most impulsive, most Viktor-like decision of his life, but then the other boy did something unexpected.  He leaned forward, one hand on Yuri's shoulder, and kissed his forehead.

 _Fuck_.  That was it.  He was moving to Kazakhstan.  

Even after the door had shut, Yuri was too stunned to move.  He was standing there second-guessing his entire life when he felt an arm being thrown around his shoulders.  “Ah, Yurio!  Looks like someone has a crush~!”

“Viktor,” Katsudon scolded.  He pried his husband off of Yuri and sent an apologetic smile at him.  

***

[Text: to Katsudon]  __ hey  
[Text: from Katsudon]  __ yeah?  
[Text: to Katsudon]  __ what if baldilocks is right  
[Text: from Katsudon]  __ yurio pls don't fly to Canada and castrate JJ.  
[Text: to Katsudon]  __ no I mean about me having a crush on beka  
[Text: to Katsudon]  __ BUT JJ FUCKING DESERVES IT AND YOU KNOW HE DOES  
[Text: from Katsudon]   
[Text: from Katsudon]  __ maybe you do.  It's not impossible.  But don't let someone else's perception have a huge influence on what YOU feel or what you think you SHOULD feel.  
[Text: from Katsudon]  _ I know your friendship with Otabek has always been really important to you, but important =/= romantic and platonic love is equally is real as romantic love.  
_ [Text: to Katsudon]  __ but like i wanna BE WITH Beka you know?

Yuuri’s next messages were a long time coming, two links to the same website he always sent Yuri things from.

[Text: from Katsudon]  _ squishes and queerplatonic relationships are things that exist.    
_ [Text: from Katsudon] _ maybe you do have a crush, I don't know.  I can't determine that for you.  But I CAN give you info so you can be educated and informed enough to decide for yourself what it is you feel. _

How was Katsudon such a great human being?

***

Over the summer, Yuri and Otabek Skyped _a lot_.  Almost every day.  In fact, it got to the point where they didn't even have to make plans or coordinate their schedules.  They both got used to the days and times when there was mutual free time.  It became second nature.  The three-hour time difference was a bit of a bitch, but whatever.  Not like neither of them had never stayed up late before.

As time went on, though, they started video chatting more often than not.  It was easier, really.  It was faster just to say what you were thinking rather than typing it out.  Plus they got to see each other’s faces, and that had to count for something, right?

In late September, Otabek dropped a bombshell on him.

“Were you serious about wanting us to be roommates?” he asked.

Yuri shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, given that his heart was now beating a million times a second.  “Don't see why we couldn't.  We're friends, right?”

Beka nodded, eyes glancing away from his screen.  He was silent for a long time, but finally he said, “I'm moving to Russia after my birthday.”

“ _What?_  Seriously?”

“Yeah.  I talked to Mr. Feltsman.  He said since Viktor is retired now, he would be willing to take someone else on.”

Yuri rearranged himself on the bed before replying.  “You’re really gonna move?  What about your family?”

“Everything on that front is settled already.  I _have_ lived away from home before, you know.”

Right.  Yuri had forgotten about that.  “So...I guess I should drag Viktor and Katsudon to look at apartments soon, huh.”

Beka nodded.  “I can help you pay rent before I get actually get there, if you find some place good and don't think you can wait on it.”

They talked about all kinds of things that night, but it wasn't enough.  They couldn't plan for everything over Skype.  There was no way the two of them could make decisions about something this huge without at least being in the same country.  

It was a start, though, and it brought Yuri the sort of opening he'd been looking for for ages.  “Hey, so, while we're talking about stuff...can I tell you something?”  (It was probably the stupidest segue he could have used, but whatever.  Beka seemed to be listening.)  “So, Katsudon has been talking to me about, like, a lot of things lately, and a lot of it makes a ton of sense to me.  I always wondered why love and shit was such a big deal, you know?”

Otabek nodded.

“And I guess I'm still…’unlearning’ shit or whatever, but I feel a lot better knowing that you're my friend and that you get it, you know?”

Yuri paused and looked away from the camera.  Why was all this emotional bullshit so difficult to actually _say_?   “And like.  I've never had a friend like you before.  You're really important to me, Beka, and I want...I want us to…”

To what?  What could he say that wouldn't cast his feelings in a romantic light?  “Be together forever” was absolute shit.  “Stay best friends until we die” was probably closer, but it still wasn't really what he wanted.  How the fuck was he supposed to ask this question without Beka misunderstanding the fuck out of him?

Scrubbing his hands through his hair, he let out a frustrated growl and frowned at the webcam.  “Fuck!  Are you gonna be my QP or not?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his friend's mouth.  He glanced away for a second, and when his attention returned to Yuri, he said nothing.  His smile bloomed over his entire face as he gave Yuri a thumbs up.

He probably should have screamed and sworn a lot to keep up appearances.  He had a fucking reputation to uphold after all.  But things with Beka were generally chill unless other people interfered with them.  And that was...okay.  Yuri never felt like he had to put on a persona when it was just the two of them.  Not like with Katsudon or Viktor or Mila or Yakov, where they were so _open_ about how much they cared about him that it scared him, and he had to pretend like he didn't care about them in return.  If he didn't care about anyone, it would hurt less in the end when they left him.

He felt brave enough to take that chance with Otabek.

***

Yuri shared the podium with his partner that winter at the GPF, and it was the absolute best fucking thing that had ever happened to him, bar none.

He posted a picture that Katsudon had taken of them showing off their medals on every social media site he was on.

_fucking finally!!!!!!!  proud af of this dude rn!!!!!    can't even be salty about 2nd place, his skating was seriously bomb af  #WinningCouple #NoRomoTho_

Buried amidst the thousands of notifications he got later, most of them congratulatory comments from fans and fellow skaters alike, he saw a like from his mother's account.  Almost immediately, his phone received a text from her.  All it said was, "winning -couple-, yurotchka?"

He deleted the message.

***

Boys were generally hot as fuck.  That was just a given.  But the older Otabek got, the hotter he became, and it was just so _unfair_ .  Yuri’s facial and body structure changed a lot as he grew, and it was almost frightening to look back at pictures of himself from his early career.  He could barely recognize himself.  His short hair, his slight frame, the small plump of baby fat still in his cheeks.  Now, his hair hung past his waist even in its perennial braid, his shoulders were broad and his torso lined with lean muscle from years of training and working out.  He looked _so different_ at 23 than he had as a teenager, and although everyone assured him that was a normal part of growing up, it still pissed him off sometimes.

But Beka always looked exactly the same while still somehow getting way hotter.   What was that man's fucking secret?

“What are you staring at?” he asked.

Yuri blinked and turned back to the video game they were playing.  “Your face.  Wanna see your reaction as I kick your ass.”

“In your dreams.”

“Your _face_ is a fucking dream,” Yuri muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

***

He always suspected Beka did kind of love him romantically.  But it was cool.  It was fine.  They weren't ones for huge displays of emotion anyway, but sometimes there was just something in the way that Beka would put an arm around his shoulders, or the way he would stroke Yuri’s cheek with his thumb when they kissed, or the way his fingers lingered over his bare skin when they had sex.  

Yuri felt like he should mind it more than he actually did.  But whatever.  It was fine.  Beka wasn't at all gross about it like Viktor and Katsudon were, so it was fine.  He never pushed things when Yuri wasn't in the mood for them, and he generally reveled in their physical contact when Yuri casually seated himself in his lap or wrapped himself around Beka’s person in some way, like a cat wanting pets who was too stubborn to just ask for them.

It was fine if Beka romo-loved him a little bit.  It was okay.

It was nice, even.  In its own way.  Sort of.

Whatever.

***

“I care about you, Beka.”

“I care about you too, Yuri.”

***

Yuri and Japanese-Yuuri were pretty close, and he often confided things in him that he would have never dared tell another soul.

“I know it's not your area of expertise or whatever,” Yuri told him once, “but I don't think I could ever _not_ have sex with Beka.  He's like, genuinely amazing, though?  It's freaky.”

Katsudon grinned and laughed.  “I'm glad he makes you happy then.  That's what's important.”

 _He makes me so fucking happy_ , Yuri thought.   _I've never been so satisfied with my life._

“Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?” Yuuri asked.

“For...teaching me.  Like, about this stuff.  And helping me all those times.  And not...giving up on me when I was being a jackass.”

Katsudon nodded.  “It's nothing,” he replied.

"It's _not_ nothing,” Yuri insisted.  “If I hadn't known about this stuff--”

“Yurio,” his friend interrupted, fingers curling around the hem of his skirt.  “Don't focus on that.  It never does any good.  It just makes you sad.”

Yuri nodded.  “Still.  Thanks.”

“It’s nothing,” Yuuri repeated.

 _It's not nothing_.

***

The first time Yuri saw the asexual pride flag pin on Japanese-Yuuri’s backpack, he _should_ have paid attention to it.  It _shouldn't_ have stayed there for months with no comment from anyone.  Yuri _should have_ rocked the boat.

He _should_ have been curious.  He _should_ have asked about this new pin, the stripey one, the one with black, gray, white, and purple color blocks

He _should_ have asked.  

It was _definitely_ worth the effort.

(But oh fucking well.)


End file.
